Fake or Real

Sometimes I write without thinking. I let the words flow out, and believe them to all be true. That does not always feel genuine though; because with each stroke of the keys, a bit more romanticization occurs. Each moment is put on a pedestal, just as a moment should be, yet it can be misleading. Behind each perfect moment is the conscious intent of trying to see the good and let the bad fade away, and with that, you get a flawless memory of an event. Then there are times when I write just the good, but the bad still ruminates in my mind. I fight it and beg it not to take my soul away from the appreciation of the good times. Moments are fleeting, life is only temporary, and we all are imperfect in our ways. We do what we know works and hope for the best. We’re all fucked up in our tiny ways, and sometimes those pieces of us affect others when we let them seep out into our actions. I guess what I’m saying is that sometimes the good and bad are so intense, that if you just focus on the good, something might appear to be perfection. On the other hand, when something is purely good and does not have those lows that make the highs feel higher, you may not have the words or the urge to write about that kind of good. I’ve found that the times in my life when I’ve talked to you (my readers) is usually when I was my most depressed. I sought to writing because it was my refuge away from the lack of silence in my own head. When I’d let any thoughts out, whether it was actually purging the bad ones or not, it would make me feel better. Writing something inspired in that time of my life made me feel like something was going right, even when nothing really was. A couple months ago, I was the saddest I had ever been, but wrote a lot of posts that I look back on and am pleased with how they make me feel. I guess at the very least during that time, I was introspective.   

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Fear

I’m sacred that I’ll convince myself once more that I am wholeheartedly over you. I’m afraid I’ll fall into that abyss of denial and will never find my way back to you. I’m quick to guard my heart, which means if you tell me I’m single, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll share the most meaningless exchanges and inject as much meaning as I can for the other person. I’ll gain their affections, hoping their piqued interest will someway invigorate my attraction to them. Currently I’m playing this little game, I already have my first play in motion, and I’m afraid it is working all too easily. You see I’ve never really had trouble in this game, I just chose to never play it, cause it didn’t suit my style. Instead I played the waiting game. I’d observe the players that walked by, and if any looked particularly unique, then I’d prepare to play. They’d take note, and the games would begin. The only reason I ever participated is because when I waited, I had the opportunity to play an entirely different game altogether. I found that when you play with the best, you always have the most fun. I miss playing with the professionals, the rookies aren’t just cutting it. They don’t know how to make my heart skip a beat, or give me those nervous butterflies. Though maybe it is due to the fact that my heart’s just not in the game anymore. My body is, but even it wants to retract and discontinue what I’ve started. I have many options, but you’re the only one I love. 

Don’t Fret

My body is at peace, my soul is in turmoil. Yet my soul is responsible for bringing my body the amount of nourishment it needs. I am not starving. My soul is preoccupied, and so therefore my body forgets the hunger. It doesn’t kill me. If anything, this is the medicine it needs. To truly desire the nourishment my body truly craves is a wonderful feeling. Here I am, all too often left even more indulged than I ever wanted. I feel uncomfortably full. I don’t like that feeling. So when my mind tells my body it is time to take a break from the nourishment, maybe it is trying to get my body to feel again. That overwhelmingly full feeling suppresses the satisfaction. It dampens the enjoyment of a perfect meal. 

It’s not premeditated, it is simply forgetfulness. It is quite interesting that now is the time you feel the need to worry. Please don’t fret over me. I am handling myself. In fact, nothing is truly the matter at the moment. If something were, you wouldn’t have a clue. No one ever does. Though that is ok. I don’t need the council of others to help me back up when I am down. I’ve learned to deal with it on my own. If anything, handling it alone in a quiet room with some space to think and write is all I need to get back on track. If anything, all the worried words makes it worse. Remember how when you’d fall as a child, it wasn’t the pain itself that startled you, it was the gasps and worried eyes of those around you. The pain wasn’t even noticeable until it was brought to your attention. It prompts me to ask myself “is there something I should be upset about? Am I anorexic because I forgot a meal yesterday, then the next, decided I would prefer to stay in and eat a little less than an “adequate” meal?” No, it doesn’t. I am aware of how my emotions affect me, and it is simply the tunnel vision on my tasks that has me like this. Yes, I was feeling upset the other night and there are still some residual feelings, but it isn’t like these feelings weren’t present before. They have been going on for quite a while now, you just now got a glimpse of them. I didn’t intend to give you a preview of them, it just happened as a result of my will weakening. I didn’t have the energy to put on a fake facade that night.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever written about my opinions on advice. Though, no matter if I have or not, here is the updated version of what I feel about the topic. Recently I have come to realize that the more “advice” I get on how to live my life, the less I feel like those around me truly understand. I have made decisions based on my own intuition this far, and I have done quite well. I know what I can handle, I know what’s best for me, and I want to be in charge of what I do and do not regret. I feel like advice is a flowery word to mask what it truly is: others interjecting their opinion and judgement on the situation, not their understanding, and not their support.

A while ago, someone asked me if I had to pick between two extremes, which would I chose: a person who is constantly in my business, asking what’s wrong, giving advice, and being “there for me,” or someone who recedes for a while and allows me to be alone to handle my emotions on my own. At first I thought I would want the first, because I wouldn’t want the second who would “abandon” me when things got tough. Now that i think about it, I would choose the latter, because advice that lacks perspective is worse than no advice at all. Though, I’ve found that I prefer a silent presence over all. Someone I want around, who will just lay with me as I think about what’s on my mind.

Unconditional 

Happy as ever, a picture perfect couple on paper. Around everyone else you two appear to be happier than ever. Deep inside you both are breaking. You want to make this work, but is it simply becoming a test to see how long you can maintain it? Sure you two care for one another, but where is the passion, the lust, the total understanding. No not the best friend kind of understanding. The kind that when you look into that person’s eyes, you know you’ve finally found that feeling, that connection that you’ve been looking for. It’s not just a lustful gaze, comfortable gaze, or a passionate gaze, it’s all of those and more combined into one look. You two are the only ones in the room in that moment, and everything fades away. The objects in the room are just a blur to you. All you see are those beautiful eyes staring back at you. That’s surely not what this is though… Yes there’s history, and yes they’ve got your back, but is them being them simply enough for you? If years down the road you were to meet again, with faded memories, and see them pounds heavier, would that feeling they give you still remain the same? If they were to do something that frustrated you to no end, would your reasoning be to get mad now, but not give up on them because the feeling of being apart would tear you apart to no end? Is your love for them unconditional? Not simply meaning you’d go out on a limb for them. That’s caring for someone–It’s quite common. The kind of unconditional that draws you to them when they’re away. They remain in your thoughts even when out of sight. The kind of connection that no matter what they do, no matter what’s going on, no matter how they look, just being them is enough. That’s all that matters. You wouldn’t have it any other way. You don’t want someone fitter, more intelligent, more accomplished, you want them. Only them. They’re perfection. Not external perfection, but rather internal. Every part of their soul resonates with yours and brings you peace, happiness, and fulfillment. If something exists between you two that we all can’t see, then by all means, continue on, keep the details of your relationship a secret to others. Allow others to see only a mirage of the two of you. Pretend to be the cookie cutter perfect couple. When you two appear to fumble and sink into a boring depressive state in public, don’t feel the need to defend your relationship if there’s more to it all that no one else is able to see but you two. If being apart is harder than being with them, then by all means, stay and savor every moment you’ve got. They’re your definition of perfect, not anyone else’s. Don’t feel the need to defend a connection you know is strong. Though if what they all say is true, if they’re simply not the one for you, listen to them, listen to those doubts you’re having. Perhaps you care for them, but spending your time with someone who doesn’t truly love you unconditionally, who you don’t truly love unconditionally, is surely a waste. 
To those of you who read this thinking it was about you, just know that this isn’t just one person or couple I’m talking about. This is based on a mixture of all the relationships I’ve seen around me. But if at any point this made you think of someone, or a relationship, don’t ignore that. Just look at this like one of those cheesy reposts on Instagram with the caption “I never mentioned a name, but someone popped into your head while reading this.” 

Scratches 

You hurt her. She thought you’d at least warn her of the wound you were about to create. The pain that it would cause. The reason you did it. There was no explanation; Maybe it’s because she didn’t give you one when you needed it. Though now it has all unfolded. Scars have been made, and the wounds are taking their sweet time to finish healing. Just when she thinks they’ve finished, something ends up scratching them once more. You posses the antidote, but you don’t give it, and she doesn’t know why. Why don’t you give it to her? Maybe you have a secret that explains it all. You two promised no secrets though, right? Though does the rule count if the subject of the secret never arises? Aside from that, she has a secret of her own. She has the ability to inflict an even deeper wound on you. It would singe forever. Yet she knows that since it would be so painful, perhaps even more than equal to the pain you’ve caused her, she can’t bring herself to do it. An eye for an eye doesn’t apply here, she knows that. So she’s cautious with her desires, and refrains from making any counterattack. Even as her wounds continue attempting to heal, she doesn’t dare make you feel the same. All she wants is for the attacks to end, for the wounds to heal, for a declaration of peace, but it appears as though it will never come. So until then, she continues to heal. She looks for someone to provide an antidote. Perhaps it’s not the exact antidote she needs, but it will have to suffice. 

A letter to my future kids and I 

To me: When they make mistakes and your blood is boiling, know this: you were like that once too. Remember that “one big mistake”? Remember how you only knew the stove was hot when you accidentally placed your hand on it for the first time? We have to make mistakes in order to learn, and these precious little people you call your children may happen to make more than one simple mistake. These posts you write now promote a little bit of rebellious thinking, so allow them to approach life fearlessly. When they do something dumb, don’t approach them with a judgmental glare, talk to them, perhaps give them the time to explain their mistakes through writing. You know you did your fair share of that kind of explaining in your teenage years. Maybe the letters they write will aggravate you just a tiny bit, maybe you won’t be able to sympathize right away. Think back to this time right now, the moment you wrote the post to your future self and kids in the back of your french host family’s car on the way back to France from some place near Vouvre. You talked big game, but your actions didn’t represent the rebellion your words promote. That’s a product of punishment. The first tiny mistake you made left a burn in your mind, remaining imprinted forever. Each time your rebellion begs for a chance to breathe you remember the disapproving looks and words. You remember the judgement. To you the judgement may have appeared a little uncalled for for the situation, but you still feel remorse for your actions the night of that one big mistake years ago. So from then on out you continue to live a little more on the safer side than you typically would. You don’t act without thinking first. Some may judge you for lacking the ability to just act on impulse and spontaneity, but they weren’t around when you heard those disapproving words. Don’t give your children the same visual that halts them from making more than one simple mistake. Their mistakes are what will help them grow. When they trip and fall while navigating this difficult time, hold your tongue when you feel tempted to say “I told you so.” 


To them:

I want to start off with one thing, and that is this: I was never perfect, and never will be. If I ever pretend that I didn’t make the same mistakes you’re making at this age, I want you to search long and hard through this blog, because there will most likely be a post to prove otherwise. The reason I write, for others and for myself is to document a history. Sure it’s not monumental, and perhaps others have gone through these things, and it all appears to be yesterday’s news, but these stories need to be remembered. This is a testament to how I was throughout all of my growth. My good moments, but also my bad moments. When I had all of the confidence in the world, but also when I was breaking. The reason I show you this blog is because I want you to be able to read it before you go through some of these hard times, that way you’ll know when you’re going through them, that you’re not alone. I’ve gone through and will go through my share of experiences that perhaps I’ll forget at times, but they’ll be on this blog forever. You know your grandma and your grandpa, the ones I call mom and dad? I would have loved to read about their mistakes. It’s very simple when you’re a parent to feign perfection, but we all know it’s not real. Your grandma used to tell me that she made mistakes at my age too, and she thinks I should learn from them before I make the same ones. The only flaw in her preaching is that she doesn’t give me specific examples, she just keeps it vague. Though, I realize it’s not the easiest or most pleasant thing to attempt to remember your worst moments from your youth. Through this blog, I’ll spare my future self from the hassle of recounting some difficult memories, but feel free to ask me to elaborate on them if you’d like. 

When I was your age I respected my parents marriage, but at the same time was ever so curious about the relationships they had with the opposite sex throughout their life, before they met one another. But I never asked, and they never told. Sure I’ve gotten stories about the basic facts, but never in depth recounts of the emotions they went through/ felt towards those people. Here you’ll find more than you’d ever need to know about my past relationships before I met your dad. You’ll also find my thoughts about sex and other natural things we as sexual beings think about, but don’t always feel free to discuss openly. At this age I surely hope I will have explained the birds and the bees to you, but if not, I’d like you to make sure I do so. If I have, hopefully all your questions were answered in an open and accepting manner. I want you to know that no matter what you chose to do with your sexuality, whether it be to conform to society or not, I will love you as you are. Don’t ever feel you have to suppress your sexuality. It is one of the best things about being human. If your dad and I ever look at you and your boyfriend/ girlfriend with “disgust” as you’re making out, know that we’re simply kidding. Also, know that all of the “nasty” times you see me and your dad being “weird” (making out and grabbing on each other) in the kitchen, it is because we’re just as in love with one anther as we were years ago. 

Back to the letter though. The only time you’ll ever receive some tough love from me will be if you ever put someone down in order to build yourself up to be somehow superior to them. You’re my child, and my children don’t act like that. It is the one thing I detest the most, and will continue to detest until the day I die. Whenever you talk to someone, whether it be to your sibling, a friend, or a stranger remember that you are equals. No one is better, and no one is worse. 

By reading all of my old posts you’ll find my stories, my experiences, and my thoughts throughout my years. I hope that through reading these you’ll feel that you can come to me more freely, knowing I went through a similar thing. Lastly, I would like you to end this knowing that I will always love you no matter what. Perhaps it’s strange of me to be writing this so early, many many many years before you will be a reality, but I have a tendency to be weird and unconventional with what I post on this blog. 


BBQ sauce 

I’ve decided to switch things up a bit, so in this post, and possibly in some future posts, you will be reading some posts about the people I know.
I’m not sure if you still check my blog, but if you do, this one’s to you. Perhaps if you don’t read it before I get back from France, I’ll show it to you sometime before we part ways when we go to our separate schools this fall. 

I’d like to begin by saying that I treasure our friendship and couldn’t have pictured a better person to be my best friend. Ever since the day we met, I’ve always noticed that you’re truly genuine and completely real with me. You probably know more about me than you ever needed to know from our random night time confessions, but in a way, I’m glad you know how weird I am. We’re always ourselves around each other, and nothing else, and I love that. If someone would have asked me if I thought I was ever going to have a best friend like the ones portrayed in the movies, I would have said most likely not. I never thought this kind of friendship existed until we bonded over the weirdest things and stuck by each other’s side despite having such vastly different interests. In a way we’re kind of polar opposites that way, but I think we complement each other well. Just a few weeks ago before I left, when I spent a few days with you, it reminded me why I love having you as my best friend. Despite being around each other for hours and hours straight, I still didn’t want to leave. You’re the best friend a gemini could ever have. I love it when you ask random questions out of the blue. Your crazy spontaneity. Your adventurous side, but also your hilariously contradictory scaredy-cat side when it comes to spiders and strong thunder storms. These quirks make you exactly who you are, and that’s what I love about them. They’re random and silly, which is just the way I like it :). I remember when we started off as total strangers who decided to share a cabin at a camp out. There was no awkwardness at all because we were so excited as to what we would do that night: read the scary stories written on the walls, peer out the windows into the pitch black night when we’d hear noises outside, and play board games. Since then I’ve noticed that our ridiculous, nonsensical fear has carried over into the times when you’ve convinced me to try out new scary video games with you. It appears that there is a pattern of ours to try ridiculous things with one another, such as the crazy dares we’ve made. I don’t know who else would be able to convince me to get into an outdoor pool in the middle of winter…

I know we’re going to be away from each other for a long while soon, but I know this friendship is forever. Maybe one day we’ll end up in the same city again, where we can rekindle the friendship that we will always share. While we’re apart I plan to send at least 1 picture every day like we promised so we can keep up with one another. I know it will be hard to not have that familiar presence of one another, but I’m positive that this will only make our friendship stronger. I can’t wait to see you during the breaks when we’ll recount all that happened while we were apart.